A Little Thing Called Love
by shen summoner
Summary: Love encompasses all, and best friends as they are, Draco, Harry, and Ron, have diverse opinions and experiences regarding it. Add to that Draco's fascination with a fiesty Muggleborn witch, Harry's obsession with his past, and Ron's desperation to find his soulmate, they are faced with situations that cause them to question even what little they know of love.
1. Chapter 1

A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE

* * *

Chapter 1

"And I just want to say that this night- this wonderful, starry night - is made all the more beautiful by you brilliant people gathered here, ten whole years after we last parted. Although we have lived through dark times, may we always light up the world wherever we go. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" rang out everybody's voices, with the tinkling sound of champagne flutes being clinked together.

"Justin," said Hermione, interrupting him by laying a hand on his shoulder. "Someone's here to see you."

"Now?" he asked in confusion, craning his head to get a glimpse of the person at the entrance of the Great Hall.

"She says its urgent. Who is that, by the way? Never seen her around. "

"No one," he said a bit too hastily, and then grinned as if to hide it. "Enjoy the party, Hermione. I'm sure I've seen Theo around somewhere."

"I'll enjoy myself alright," she muttered under her breath as he walked away. Her best friends were probably half sloshed somewhere in the castle, and her fiance was nowhere to be seen.

"Looking for me, gorgeous?" he whispered at the base of her neck, as his arms wound around her from behind, his lips peppering small kisses on her cool skin.

"Theo," she sighed, running her hands up the arms encircling her waist. "And here I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me."

He chuckled lightly against her skin. "Never."

"Spare me the horror of you sappy idiots swapping spit, or I swear to Merlin I'm gonna be sick."

Theo Nott huffed on her shoulder and turned to face his childhood acquaintance.

"Draco. What a pleasure, as usual."

"Let's skip the unnecessary niceties you always insist upon, Theodore. I'm here to say hello to your beautiful companion. How do you do, Granger?"

"Well, thank you."

"How have you been keeping all this while?"

"If by 'all this while' you mean the one week since we last saw each other, suffice it to say nothing's really changed. You would know, considering you refuse to budge from my friends' side."

"Oh, they love me far too much to remove me from their side. Perhaps you're -"

"Hermione, love," Theo cut in, abruptly interrupting whatever Draco was about to say. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Wine would be perfect, thank you," she smiled, stealing a kiss to his cheek.

"The both of you are gonna make me throw up. Darling this and darling that. Why can't everyone just believe in the power of casual sex - like me? Would save a lot of unnecessary name-calling and tears."

"And the excessively dangerous threats to your little head."

At this, he burst out laughing and threw an arm around her shoulders, leading her to a more seclusive area. "This is exactly why I keep you around. You're far too entertaining."

"And you're drunk as usual, which is why I want nothing to do with 'staying around,' " she retorted, escaping from under his arms, barely hiding the grimace that graced her features.

"How's your job?" he asked.

"The rate at which you change conversational topics astounds me."

"How's your job?" he asked again.

"Fine. It's fine."

"I don't understand what a smart, incredibly sexy woman like you is doing in International Magical Cooperation. You should try out other ventures."

"Would you rather I became a stripper, the apparently sexy woman that I am?"

He grinned and picked up a doughnut from what officially was the Slytherin table, but was now serving as a food counter. "You can't deny it. I mean," he drawled on, leaning dangerously close to her, "don't tell me Theo's never said that to you in bed. You've got that whole prudish look about you, but I know that's just a façade. I bet you're -"

"This is making me uncomfortable," she suddenly said, as her back was now pressed against the table, and she was effectively cornered by his drunk self.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've never thought about the two of us together, these past two years. I, for one, most certainly have."

With that, he closed the remaining distance between them and smashed his mouth against hers, bringing his hands up to her shoulders. Even though she'd known what was coming, she was still taken aback, but it didn't take her more than a second to forcefully push him away.

"How dare-" she began, but was interrupted when Theo, who'd seen everything, spun Draco from behind, and landed a bruising punch to his eye, sending him crashing into the doughnuts.

"That's my fiancee, you arsehole! You touch her again and I'll kill you!"

By then, every eye in the hall was on them, and cellphones had already been whipped out to capture the aftermath of Theodore Nott punching Draco Malfoy in the face over Hermione Granger at their school reunion.

She instantly knelt down to check if Theo had inflicted any serious damage to his eye, when Draco caught her hand and rasped out,"Congratulations. Have beautiful brown haired babies. And don't forget to make me godfather."

* * *

"Ow!"

"Stay still, you idiot. If you were stupid enough to go after Hermione then you've got to bear the consequences!"

"A bit more to the left, Harry," piped in Ron, his hands holding the ends of the high wooden stool in the Hogwarts kitchen.

"Shut it, Ron."

"There," Harry said after a bit. "We're done, mate. But I'm giving you a bit of this salve in a box. Apply it twice a day and you'll be good to go."

"Thanks, Healer Harry," Draco mumbled out, patting his best friend's shoulder. "I don't know why the bastard had to punch me in the eye. All I did was-"

"Make a move on his girl. Which definitely comes under the header of When To Punch A Bloke. And really, you have a very bad track-record with Theo's girlfriends," Ron said, starting on an apple pie kept on the granite.

"Yeah. All you've done is shag every single one of them. I still don't get why he'd punch you over making a move on his girlfriend," Harry added sarcastically.

"Oh, haven't you heard? She's not just the girlfriend anymore. She's the-"

"Fiancee," Harry finished. "We've heard. And we've also heard that we're not supposed to side with you because that'll only encourage you in your immature, alcoholic behaviour."

"Man, she can be scary when she wants to," Ron said, twisting his mouth.

"Yeah. She's hot when she's angry."

But no sooner had the words left his mouth, than Harry had smacked him on the back of his head. "No thinking about Hermione in that way. She's engaged to be married and she's almost like my sister, so thank you very much for putting that repulsive image in my brain."

"I'm sure that and the one the locket showed you keep you up at night. If she's like your sister it must've been nauseating to watch yourself do THAT with-"

But by then, Draco had caught Harry's wide eyes and slight shake of the head, and knew that he'd said enough. They never brought up that incident in front of Ron - not if they could help it.

"You're the biggest bullshitter ever," Ron said, and he tried to play it off with a laugh.

They were immersed in an awkward silence for a moment before Draco jumped out of his stool and adjusted his shirt.

"What's happening between you and Hannah?" he asked, hoping it'd lighten the mood, which it did, and considerably, but only at Ron's expense.

"Hannah's...being difficult. She refuses to listen to me. I can't be exciting and dangerous. I'm not like you, Draco! I mean, look at me..." he trailed off, running a hand through his ginger hair.

"Hey. You're brilliant just the way you are, Ron," Harry spoke with an encouraging smile.

"Yes. And any woman that doesn't appreciate that can very well fuck out of your life!" added Draco enthusiastically. "Look at me, for heaven's sake. Former death eater, self-confessed alcoholic, a complete arsehole to everyone...I have nothing on you, mate. You should be thankful you're nothing like me. Because your ginger head is not fit to be a prick to women. Not knowingly, at least."

"Yeah!" Ron shouted, his right arm raised in a sign of victory. "I'm not gonna bow down to her. I'm great just the way I am!"

"You tell that to her, Ron," Harry said, barely hiding the curl of his lips. "You tell her that."

At that, his bright face changed countenance altogether, and he spoke dejectedly "But I love her. I can't just give up like this. I-"

"Mate, to be very honest you fall in love with all of them pretty darn fast," Harry said matter-of-factly, as he slapped his hands against his thighs and got up from his stool.

"He's absolutely right, you know," Draco added, ushering them out of the kitchen and towards the steps. "I mean, you practically fell in love with Granger the moment you laid your puppy eyes on her, on account of she being that much smarter than you."

"Hey! I did not fall in love with her - then. She told me I had dirt on my nose! Heck, she was an unbearable pain in the bum for the majority of our first year."

"Oh, aren't you aware of my rocky history with Ronald, Draco?" a saccharine voice rang out from behind them. "I'd thought these two had updated you about every mundane detail concerning their lives. It seems I was wrong."

Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from swearing aloud. They turned to see Hermione standing there with her hands on her hips, seething with anger.

"Hi, Hermio-"

"Oh, shut up, Harry, and let me have a little one-to-one with your friend over here."

"Me?" Ron asked, gulping.

"No, you fool," she huffed. "Inside," she said to Draco, pointing towards an abandoned classroom. "Go on, then."

"Look, Hermione," Harry cut in, obviously a bit uneasy. "You do know we aren't taking his side, or any side, don't you? We do not agree with what he did out there, and I've already reprimanded him for-"

"Hannah was looking for you, Ronald," Hermione bit out coldly, completely ignoring Harry. "I'd suggest the two of you head back downstairs."

"And don't worry," she added as an afterthought, when they'd begun their descent. "I'll give him back in one piece."

"Well?" Draco asked, nonchalantly.

She said nothing but walked into the classroom, and he had no choice but to sigh at the imminent disaster, and follow.

As soon as they were in, she slammed the door shut behind her, and cast a silencing charm for good measure.

"How dare you?" She asked furiously, whipping around to face him, a look of obvious loathing and disgust written all over her pretty face.

"How dare you even think you can try your shit on me, you sorry excuse for a human being?" she continued, her eyes almost brimming with tears.

"That was one time. All those years ago," she whispered, slumping down onto a bench. "We were drunk. Then again, you almost always are, but we swore, you fool. We swore we'd never mention it to anyone, let alone allow the thougt of the possibility of a second time to form in our heads. And you just had to screw it up. You just-"

"Look, Granger," he replied, his tone soft and eyes kind, reaching out a comforting hand to rest on her shoulders, that she promptly shook off.

"Don't touch me."

"Hermione."

"I said don't. It's not like you want anything to do with me. So, don't touch me."

"And what? Am I just supposed to ignore the fact that I may be into you? Ignore it like you are, and have been doing for so long?"

"Oh, spare me, Malfoy," she icily spat out. "What am I to do, split up with my fiance and come running into your open arms because you "may be into me"? We've had this conversation before. And I was willing to, you know? I was actually considering it for a while. But then, thankfully, I acted rationally.

"I mean, what would I do with a man who refused to even acknowledge that there is a little thing in this large universe called love? A little thing, but large enough to parallel the power of that which we live in. Something that saved my best friend's life countless times. Something I'd thought I felt for you. And something you didn't even believe in. What future would I ever have had with a man like that, a man like you?

"Because powers of persuasion aside," she grimly chuckled, "I frankly don't think I have it in me to convince you to love me. Didn't then, don't now."

And with that, she hastily got up from her seat and walked out, her head held high, as a few silent tears escaped her eyes, leaving the very shaken man behind.

* * *

"Hannah," Ron said nervously, tapping the strawberry blonde on her shoulder.

"Oh, Ron," she turned, immediately engulfing him in a fierce hug. "You just walked off like that," she whispered, pulling away to look into his eyes.

He could see that there was something wrong. Hermione called him tactless and a bit...desensitized to feelings in general, but he had finally learnt to pick up from nuances of people's behaviour what they were feeling. At least, people he knew very well. And Hannah, to him, had become an open book.

Like now, for instance. There was a flicker of worry, and a murky dread that had overcast her beautiful hazel eyes.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she replied, and buried her face into his shoulders again, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

He tried to pull away from her so that they could properly converse, but she held on to him as though he were her lifeline, and she needed him so desperately in that moment, that he didn't ask her to move.

"It's just that," she hiccuped, "I tried really hard you know."

She continued, mumbling into his shoulder. "I tried so hard. But I just can't kid myself - or you - anymore.

"I'm sorry Ron. I can't be with you anymore. And don't ask me why. Not yet, at least."

She finally pulled away, tears staining her cheeks, as she took in Ron's pale face.

She brought up a hand to cup his face, but he moved back instantly, shoving the hands that had been wrapped around her into his pockets.

That one gesture said it all. Hannah sniffed, just nodded, and ran out of the corridor they'd agreed to meet in.

As Ron saw her retreating figure, he finally understood that she had been holding on to him for dear life, only so she could let go.

* * *

Harry whistled, his hands snuck deep into the pockets of his trousers, as he walked closer to his cottage in Godrick's Hollow.

It had been best for him to move out of Grimmauld Place and get a place close to where his parents had once lived. He didn't want to go back to their cottage, but one in the same neighbourhood made him feel as though his parents would have been oddly satisfied.

He wasn't looking where he was going, and suddenly collided with a soft figure, sending it flying backwards, scattering several things onto the snow.

"I'm so sorry," he sputtered, reaching down to help the woman up. "I wasn't quite looking where I was going and I hope I didn't hurt you?" he asked, genuinely concerned for the lady in front of him.

"Nah," she rasped out. "I'm fine."

He bent down to gather the things that had fallen from her grasp when he'd banged into her. There was a large carton, from which several photo frames had tumbled out.

He paused on one with two girls waving at the camera, identical Gryffindor scarves tied around their necks, as a shaggy haired, but undoubtedly handsome man snuck up from behind them and spun the brunnete around, kissing her soundly.

The other woman stood grinning at them, her ginger-red hair flying in the wind, with eyes just like Harry's gleaming at the camera.

"That's..." Harry trailed on, finally noticing the woman before him properly, then one whom Sirius had been kissing. "That's my mother."

"What?" she replied, obviously taken aback. She suddenly pushed Harry under the light of the lanterns hanging by the street.

"My God!" she exclaimed. "Harry!"

"Yes," he replied. "And you're Mary, right? Mary MacDonald?"

"You bet I am," she whispered, studying his face intently, his arm still held by her in a vice-like grip. "It's good to see you, Harry."

Part of her face was hidden in shadow, but there was no mistaking the solitary tear that dashed down her cheek.

"I was just moving in, actually," she said, wiping at her eyes with her shirt sleeve, turning away to pick up the carton. "Was about to levitate this when you bumped into me."

"Old Mary MacDonald," she muttered under her breath. "Living a normal life while all of her friends are either dead or insane."

"Sorry?" Harry asked. "I didn't quite catch that."

"You weren't supposed to," she replied airily, and then invited him into her new house, all the while expressing delight at having him as her neighbour.

"I could tell you so much about your parents your head will reel," she whispered into his ears a little later as he made to leave, bright blue eyes boring holes into his green ones.

She was rather beautiful, he decided then, as she shut the door behind him. Wavy black hair cascading down her shoulders, bright blue eyes shining amidst the slightly wrinkled skin forming what people called crow's feet. It suited her, though. Made her look like less of those porcelain dolls Dudley used to buy for the purpose of breaking.

He arranged for a floo visit to Malfoy Manor, and found Ron slumped over in a stool at Draco's personal mini-bar.

"Hannah broke up with me," he said to him. "But I'm okay. OK?"

"Okay mate," Harry winced, exchanging a knowing glance with the platinum blonde haired wizard sitting behind the bar, who seemed a bit down himself.

"Guess who I bumped into tonight?"

"Who?" Ron asked rather miserably.

"Mary MacDonald."

That got Draco's attention.

"MacDonald? The Gryffindor? Wasn't she..."

"In my parents' year, yes," Harry confirmed, eyes glittering behind his round glasses.

"Good for you, buddy," Draco said softly. "You can get to know them some more."

Ron lifted his head up from the counter and patted his childhood friend on the back.

"This calls for celebration. I mean, it isn't everyday Harry gets this excited, is it?"

"It certainly does," Draco replied, producing three small, uncorked bottles of firewhiskey from under the bar, handing them one each. "I'll drink to that."

"Cheers," they chimed in together, each wishing for the life the other lived, as a comfortable silence descended onto them.

* * *

To be continued...

A/n - Leave a review!


	2. Chapter 2

A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE

* * *

Chapter 2

"Get. Up."

Ron groaned from under his three bedsheets. "I don't wanna, Draco."

"Get up, Weasley, or I swear to Merlin I'm gonna levitate you onto the streets in your bloody boxers, and then all of magical London will be able to view your beautiful yellow underwear.

"It's Spongebob," his small voice replied, a bit indignantly.

"It could be whatchamacallit for all I care. You've been moping about for almost two weeks now, and that's excessive, especially for you. I mean, you're Ronald Weasley, for God's sake. You should be on your feet, looking for The One and all that crap you believe in. So get up, and get on with hunting for true love or whatever. I mean, you've jumped off the proverbial cliff already- displayed to the world how much your girlfriends mean to you, and how much you love them, and how much you wanna marry them and produce beautifully hideous red babies with them- and you're free falling. Better you get your sorry ass up and prepare to crash."

Ron lifted the sheets to glare at Draco. "That was, by far, the worst motivational speech i have EVER received in all these years of existence. It even beats the one George gave me while he taught me the contraceptive spell when I was dating Lavender," he shuddered.

"Now that you're awake," Draco said, ignoring him, "take a shower and pack your bags. We're going somewhere."

* * *

"This is a stupid idea," Ron hissed, as he put the invisibility cloak over him and Draco. "And you're bloody lucky Harry accidentally left this cloak with me last week."

"Shush," Draco whispered. "I say it's a good thing his wards recognise us."

"He'll probably be sleeping, right?"

"Well, it is a Sunday, so yes. But there's no way a workaholic like him will go down without a fight. I'm telling you, this is the ONLY way."

They trudged up Harry's stairs as quietly as they could, and paused before his closed bedroom door.

"Let's go through the plan once more," Draco whispered.

"Honestly? " Ron raised a brow. "How the hell did you survive the ruddy war? Plans never actually work out. And we've discussed it a million times already. I'm just afraid he'll accidentally fire some nasty hex at us."

Draco rolled him eyes, and pointed his wand at the door, a non-verbal spell unlocking it.

They ran to Harry's bed, and before the man could even get up, they had him bound and gagged and up against the headboard, thrashing wildly.

As soon as he realised it was them, he stopped flailing about for only a second, before resuming again.

Draco and Ron, in the meanwhile, were raiding his closet, and dumping summer clothes into his rucksack.

"Trunks?"

"I've got a pair!"

"Where are his ruddy- Oh! Found 'em. Nice sneakers mate. Where'd you get these from? Some muggle shop?"

And all Harry could do was pray they didn't accidentally set his house on fire, because he'd gotten accustomed to bearing with their idiotic phases over the past few years.

* * *

Draco sped ahead on the highway, his swanky new Cadillac bright and shiny, with one vocally excited, and another silently fuming passenger in it.

"This was really unnecessary," Harry finally bit out, a hint of a smile playing at his mouth as the wind wantonly kissed his cheeks.

"Quite the contrary, rather," Draco chirped out playfully. "You'd never have agreed otherwise. What with it being a workday tomorrow. Too bad your assistant witch told me you were way overdue for a holiday. Besides, Ron needs it, mate. He needs to be surrounded by sexy, French, topless girls."

"For the billionth time, we are NOT going to a naturist beach!"

"Quite the contrary, rather," Draco repeated, winking at Ron. "Welcome to Cap d'Agde my friends!"

They checked into their hotel rooms after the valet guy had taken away Draco's rented car, much to his dismay (he'd wanted to shrink it and take it into his room), and had headed down with plans of unwinding at the beach.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron whispered.

"What?" Harry said, head snapping up.

"It's Pansy, Draco."

And that was all it took to send Draco hiding behind the huge potted plant in the lobby.

"Weasley, Potter," she noted, sauntering up to them. "I'd seen Draco with you just now! Where is he?"

And they said nothing, but moved apart and pointed behind the plant, trying very hard not to laugh, but failing when they saw the look Draco shot them as she launched herself into his arms.

About an hour later, leaving a very disgruntled Pansy behind, they set out again, to explore the little town and the beaches it was famous for.

"I don't know how she found me," Draco shuddered, lying down on his deck chair, pale skin glistening with the tremendous amount of sunblock he'd applied.

"I think it's just a coincidence," Harry smirked. "Besides, it serves you right, Draco, for being such an arrogant, bossy prat."

"Oh, shut it, you arse. I've heard enough from you already. If you hate it so much here, then get your sorry self back to London, for all I care."

Harry sighed. He had to admit, this was a very welcome break from his hectic schedule of seeing patients everyday. After the war, he'd decided that Auror training wasn't for him. He'd spent his entire childhood fighting a war - he didn't want to hunt down criminals all through his life. So, after giving his NEWTS and going through a very thorough training procedure, he'd finally become a Healer.

"At least girls run after you," Ron said, gloomily. "It's the opposite in my case."

Just then, a shadown was cast upon them, as an incredibly beautiful woman leaned above Ron and whispered something in his ear, shashaying off gleefully after he frantically nodded his head.

"I'm gonna go rub sunscreen all over her," Rom mumbled out hurriedly, as he rushed after her, leaving behind his amused friends, who reclined into their chairs, a comfortable silence settling in.

"I really think you should tell her," Harry spoke after a while, eyes closed behind his glasses.

"Tell who?" Draco drawled.

"Pansy, you idiot. You've literally been leading her on your whole life. She doesn't want to be the one person you seek out when there's nobody else. I'm sure she deserves a guy who can really appreciate her, not some moronic idiot who wouldn't know a girl worth holding on to if she slapped him in the face."

"Remember when Granger slapped me in the face?" Draco chuckled. "I was do damn angry I could've strangled her. Thankfully, I scampered away like the coward I was."

Harry softened. "Is this all about Hermione? Why you never bother trying for any girl? Why you abhor even the prospect of a serious relationship?"

Draco guffawed. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? I've always been this way. And self-destructive as it may be, it's the only way I know."

"Maybe it's not too late for you to learn."

Draco shrugged. "Whatever. But you're right. I really do need to have a talk with Pansy."

* * *

The next afternoon found Harry walking down Agde's streets with a map in his hands, a deep line formed down the middle from where it'd been folded too often.

He stopped and looked up, a look of satisfaction gracing his features as he caught sight of the building he'd come to see.

Agde had very few tourist attractions that weren't synonymous with the beach, but when he'd heard of this 18th Century church which boasted of fantastic architecture, he'd jumped at the chance, leaving his friends behind, sunbathing at the beach.

He found a nice spot by the side, from where he had an ample view of the structure, with it's ancient pillars and magnificent build, and its quaint, peaking roofs.

He set up his canvas on the easel Draco had remembered to throw in with his luggage, for which he was thankful, because if there was anything Harry carried with him wherever he went, it was his painting supplies.

He'd taken up the hobby soon after the war, when the need to express himself through any medium had torn him apart, especially after he'd discovered that he had a very poor way with words. He liked to think that he had honed his skill over these ten years, because even before, he'd never been bad with the artistic stuff.

As he settled in and admired the outline he'd made, he saw a woman leave the church, her dark hair strikingly familiar. She made her way halfway down the steps leading to the church's entrance, before plopping down on the cracked cement, with her head in her hands.

It's Pansy, he thought, before sighing and walking over to where she now sat, sobbing into her hands.

"Pansy," he said, and his voice came out real croaky and rough. He cleared his throat and said her name again, this time, louder.

"What?" she said, looking up at him miserably, with her bloodshot eyes above her kohl-stained cheeks, causing him to stagger back, dumbfounded. "What?" she said again.

"I would like to paint you," he whispered, bending forward to unclasp the clip her hair was held in, letting it fall across her face in curtains. "Just like this."

* * *

"I mean, why would he do that?" she asked for the millionth time, as she consciously moved to wipe at the now dry dark tear stains on her cheeks, but stopping herself when she caught the look Harry gave her. They had come back to his hotel room, where she now sat splayed on the ground, her head against the large floor length windows that overlooked the private beach.

His hand moved over the canvas naturally, like a leaf on water, flowing over the thick material skilfully. It had taken a bit of persuasion to get her to agree to be his model, and he'd had to bribe her with his willingness to lend a listening ear.

"He always was pretty mean to me...only came to me when he had no one else to fall back on, but I just assumed that one day he'd realise how much he loved me, you know?"

"Why can't he love me?" she asked after a second, her pleading eyes fixed on Harry.

He sighed. "Draco is...incapable of commitment, Pansy, you know that. You almost grew up with him, for Merlin's sake. And part of all this is because you always let him use you whenever he wished to."

"Don't get me wrong," he added hastily, when she started opening her mouth to argue. "This is his fault too. He really shouldn't be treating you, or anyone, for that matter, like that. But maybe if you'd put your foot down, you'd have been saved a great deal of trouble and heartbreak.

"Anyway," he continued, wanting to distract her from thinking about his friend, "don't beat yourself up about it. You're young, beautiful, smart - you can get any man you want. Besides," he said, adding one final stroke to his painting, "I'm done with this. Come see."

He reached up and brushed off the hair that now clung to his forehead in lumps, staining it with blue paint in the process.

She stood beside him and sucked in a breath when she saw it. He had to admit, he was pretty proud of it himself. He'd pulled it off in record time, and it wasn't half bad.

"It's beautiful," she breathed out.

He shrugged and said, "It's nothing."

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked next, turning to face him, uncertainty clouding her features.

He stared back and replied, "Yes." Because in her pathos and desperation, she seemed oddy removed from the pureblood persona she adopted whenever speaking to anyone, and she was more compassionate, more human, more capable of feeling.

"God yes," he said again, when she didn't reply, and he was suddenly conscious about how very close they were standing.

"You've got a bit of..." she moved even closer, inhabiting his personal space, and reached up to tug at the flakes of paint that stuck to his hair.

She didn't move back. Neither did he.

His hand trailed upwards, caressing the air before her, and touched her lower lip, before dragging his thumb over it, causing her to suck in her breath.

Their heads were far too close, and they breathed in what the other breathed out, swaying in that moment with silence surrounding them, save the erratic thumping of their hearts that now seemed amplified.

Then, she kissed him.

He was on fire and ice in one go, and slow as the initial contact was, he was fast to respond. Suddenly, she was in his arms, and he held her by the waist. Suddenly, her dress was off, and he was studying her. Suddenly, he carried her to his bed, and he was over her. Suddenly, they were making love, and his face was buried in the crook of her neck. Suddenly, she was crying out, and her hair was grasped in his hands. And, suddenly, they had reached completion.

She lay on her back with him beside her, lying on his side and tracing patterns on her bare stomach.

Her head was turned away from him and she was staring at the reddish sea the sky had become, the sun fastly setting below the horizon. A tear slid down her cheek, which she wiped at, before abruptly getting off the bed and slipping into her dress, leaving him and his hand behind, now still on the rumpled sheets.

"Keep it," she said softly as she moved out of his room fluidly.

It took him a while to realise that she meant the painting, and that her lips were still covered in his paint.

* * *

To be continued...

A/n - Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE

* * *

Chapter 3

Draco slipped into his suit-coat and slicked back his hair tightly, much like he used to back in Hogwarts. It was his father's death anniversary, and it was tradition for him to visit his grave dressed as a proper Malfoy; he figured he could do one thing that made his father happy.

He went down to the backyard of the Manor, and then apparated from there to a deserted garden, one his father had loved to visit with an odd book of poetry or two in hand.

His mother never accompanied him. She put off visiting her dead husband's grave as much as she could. Perhaps it was reminder to her that if she'd stopped him from going down a dark path soon enough, he wouldn't be dead, but alive, and happy, with his little family.

He came to a stop before his father's grave. It stood out amongst the greenery in the garden, nestled comfortably between the short bushes that Draco had specifically ordered his house elf to not trim.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face. He wanted to feel something, anything, but all that came back was a hollow indifference, and perhaps a bit of guilt. The guilt of not feeling guilty that his father was dead, that he had been executed after the war.

He stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Granger. He could smell her from miles away, he was sure. All sweetness and earth.

She said nothing but stood beside him, and conjured up a wreath of beautiful flowers, and then placed them on his father's grave.

Draco let out a grim chuckle. 'He doesn't deserve weeds, Granger, let alone flowers.'

She moved back to stand beside him once again, and shrugged, then turned to face him and said, 'No matter how much of an asshole he was, he's dead now, and I suppose flowers are nothing.'

He sighed and met her eyes, gorgeous chocolate orbs that gazed back at him, searching for God knows what.

'Harry couldn't make it,' she said, as if that explained her presence.

Every year, Harry and Ron came here with him, and after he'd sat and stared at his father's grave for too long, they'd haul him back to his feet and push him into a bar.

'And Ron's still in Cap D'Agde, I guess,' she continued, breathlessly.'

'It's fine, Granger. You don't have to explain your presence to me.'

She nodded, and then shoved her hands back inside her coat pockets.

'Shall we walk?' he said, and she nodded again.

They walked out of the garden and past several little cottages, a village on the outskirts of magical London. The icy wind blew at them fiercely, and he noticed her cheeks grow pink with cold.

'Listen,' he said. 'I'm genuinely sorry about what happened at the night of the reunion. I am. I mean,' he huffed, 'Here you are getting married to the perfect man, and I'm coming along to ruin it for you. But that's okay, you know, because I know that the smart woman that you are, you'll pay me no heed. Besides, I always ruin things, so it's not like-'

He was cut off by her throwing her arms around him, and capturing him in a tight embrace, one he returned after the initial shock wore off.

She pulled back after a moment and said, 'It's okay, Draco. Really. And as much as I deny it, I am your friend too, you know. I mean, I tried really hard not to be, but then I realised that you weren't going to bugger off anytime soon, and that I was stuck with a third friend.'

He laughed at that. She linked her arm around his, and they started walking back amiably. '

'I mean,' she continued, 'Is it true that you're an annoying pain in the arse most times? Undoubtedly. Is it true that you do not know when to shut up or when not to kiss someone? Right again. But, you know,' she grinned, 'as long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself, I think I can stand to bear your company.'

He nodded, and she left it at that. He knew she was just trying to cover up for all that she'd said in the empty classroom, but unwillingly, her words kept echoing in his brain.

As they walked onward, he couldn't help but recall that one night when it had all changed, two years ago.

28th January, 2006

They were at The Three Broomsticks, and were enjoying their firewhiskeys, so much so, that they'd lost count of how many they'd ingested. Harry, obviously, was not drinking. It was a workday, and he could be called in at any moment. Hermione had, for a change, thrown caution to the wind and gulped down glass after glass until Ron had forcefully made her stop. Draco couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear. Perhaps at the hilarity of the situation, but also perhaps of the alcohol that had most certainly gone to his head.

Then, the call had come. Ron had answered in frustration but he'd had to rush to the accident site, being Vice-Head of the Auror Department, after all. Five minutes later, Harry had been paged, for the same case. Medical help was required, and it was required urgently.

Hermione, ever willing as she always was to offer help, made to go as well, but Draco firmly grasped her hand and said, 'You'll only make matters worse if you show up there half-sloshed up to your arse, Granger.'

She'd nodded seriously, and then giggled, moving from her seat at the table opposite him to slide next to him on the bench.

'Do you know what happened to us in third year, Malfoy?' she snorted.

'No,' Draco answered, intrigued, and then smacked her hand when she tried to sneak to his drink.

'Ow,' she cried, and rubbed her hand. 'Well, I'll show you.'

Then she led him to the Shrieking Shack.

He raised his eyebrows. 'I'm well aware of what happened here.'

She snorted again. Malfoy looked on amusedly, because alcohol had obviously turned her into a pig.

'Of course, Harry and Ron told you,' she snorted again.

'Let's get you back home,' he suggested, and she whirled around to shoot him an icy glare.

"Glad that hasn't changed in her inebriated state," he thought.

'Noooo,' she whined. 'It's too soon to go back home. Let's go inside.'

He widened his eyes. 'Inside the Shack? No way.'

She smirked at him, and he was kind of taken aback at how naturally the expression came to her.

'Why, Malfoy? Scared it's haunted?' She laughed.

He narrowed his eyes. She'd just indirectly challenged him, and he sure as hell wasn't backing down now.

'Let's go inside,' was all he said, and he faintly registered her doing a little victory dance.

The Shack was literally one step away from falling to ruin, he noticed, as they trudged up the rickety stairs, and into the room where Harry had first encountered Sirius Black.

He noticed Hermione's expression soften upon entering the room, and found her staring at him.

'What?'

'You know, Snape was killed in this room,' she said, in a matter-of-fact manner.

He winced. As much as he'd sometimes terrorized him, Snape had been a good man, and as godfather, he'd stepped up where his own parents had failed.

Her hand on his shoulder interrupted him.

'Hey,' she said, 'Are you okay?'

He nodded, and then caught her firmly when she swayed, and then stumbled to the side.

'Are you okay?' he chuckled, holding her up steady, and then realizing how close they really were, so much so that her breath, smelling of rich firewhiskey, was ghosting across his neck.

'I am now,' she replied breathlessly, staring into his slate grey eyes.

He kissed her, then, and it was firm but tender at the same time, as a sort of tester – to gauge her reaction.

Her pliant mouth complied with his eagerly, and he sighed into her mouth, grateful for the response. Her arms snuck around his neck and locked his head in, her fingers doing an exploratory dance on his scalp, fisting his hair almost painfully in their grasp.

His hands swept up her shirt and touched the smooth planes of her stomach, and she whimpered into his mouth, and again, when he broke apart for air, and resumed kissing her on her neck.

She gasped when he hoisted her up against him and pushed her against the wall, and her legs snaked around his waist to secure him in. Her eyes shot open and she breathed out shakily when she felt him against her core, and she bit her lower lip, stifling a cry when he latched onto her ear and nipped at it.

'God's, Granger,' he said, hoarsely, running his hands up and down her jeans, and then traveling upwards to pull at the buttons on her practical shirt, both hands working at them in frustration, his body pinning her to the wall. He gave up after a second, and wordlessly spelled her shirt open.

She chuckled then, but stopped midway and threw her head back, smacking it against the wall, when he began to kiss a hot trail down her neck.

It was too much, but too little at the same time. She needed more. Her own hands began clawing at his shirt, at which he cast the same spell, because her flailing hands were distracting him from the task at hand.

She pulled him close as his hands snaked behind her and unclasped her bra, his mouth still sucking at her neck with a fierce determination. She forced his head back up to level with her, and they paused for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes, and that was enough to let them know that they weren't as drunk as they were pretending to be.

He'd leant in slowly then, and captured her bottom lip between his, pulling at it to elicit a heady groan from her, that sent all his blood gushing down to _there._ She swept her tongue over his lips and demanded entrance, as she ran her hands over his hard chest and raked her fingernails over him in punishment for the slow torture he was inflicting upon her.

Somewhere, between this exploration, and through a foggy haze of lust and desire, they heard shrieks of laughter downstairs.

It was enough to make them freeze - his hands around her waist and hers on his belt buckle - and realize the severity of what they'd done.

Not a word was exchanged, as they silently but hurriedly dressed and exited the Shack, passing a group of teenagers who smirked at them knowingly.

They walked a few steps to get away from the hut, and he touched her arm lightly. She didn't shake him off at first, which he took to be a good sign, but instead turned towards him with nothing short of steely determination in her eyes.

'No one is to know about what happened in there, you hear me? No one. It was a mistake. A huge mistake.'

And then she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and apparated back home before he even had a chance to apologise for kissing her, when she was obviously in love with her boyfriend, Theodore.

But, he realised, as he was walking back home, she couldn't have loved him very much when she'd actively partaken in all that had gone down in the Shack. His head ached, and he needed a drink to wrap his head around the situation.

* * *

Harry flinched at the strong rap on his door, just as he was putting away the groceries he'd finally remembered to buy after three days of nothing but leftover bread and chips and cafeteria food.

He opened it to find Ron standing there, and he grinned to see that his friend had returned from his extended holiday at Cap D'Agde with a certain Frenchwoman he'd taken a fancy to.

However, the smile slipped right off his face when he noticed the sullen expression on his mate's face. Ron strode in, not bothering to explain his mood to his confused, but concerned friend.

'What's with the long face, bud?' Harry asked, as Ron sank into his sofa with his head in his hands.

'Call Draco,' he rasped out. 'Can't repeat story twice,' he mumbled.

Harry was thoroughly confused, but did what he was told to, and in five minutes, Draco was there too, trying to cheer Ron up with his poor, inappropriate jokes.

'Draco,' Harry glared. 'Stop now.'

He turned to his other friend, who'd now taken to staring off into the distance wistfully.

'Ron. RON! Tell us what the matter is!'

That shook him out of his stupor (a little), and he said, 'Remember Annie?'

They nodded. Annie was the woman Ron had stayed behind for, while Harry and Draco had shaken their heads in disapproval but left for London.

'I really thought she was The One, you know,' Ron said, and Harry heard Draco mutter something like, 'Oh, bugger me in hell, here we go again.'

'But,' Ron continued in a cracked voice, not paying Draco any attention, 'She really was fabulous. She was.'

He rounded on Draco who was now examining his fingernails. 'Draco, you know she practiced Tantric rites?'

That got Draco's attention alright. Harry rolled his eyes.

'Yes,' Ron nodded frantically. 'She did. She told me she once had a five hour long orgasm, Draco. Five hours! She was a goddess.'

Now, both Draco and Harry were staring at him with rapt attention.

'So the day before, we were sleeping after a night consumed by heady passion – Harry, stop flinching it's true – and the next morning, I got up to find that she wasn't there anymore.'

Draco went back to his fingernails.

'And I'd been robbed.'

Draco's head shot up again, ears piqued and eyebrows raised as high as the heavens.

'Robbed?' Harry asked, incredulously. 'Ron, what are you saying?'

'It's true,' he wailed. My clothes were gone. All of them. So was the watch I'd just bought for three galleons. My belongings, the money I'd carried – everything. All gone.'

He sighed, and Draco and Harry gave each other a look as if to say, "Is this the Vice-Head of the Auror Department, or what?"

Then they promptly erupted into peals of laughter, and quieted down only when Ron threatened to sic his ugly owl on them.

'It's not funny! I loved her.' He said this with an attitude of a four year old spoilt baby, so it was hard for his friends to not start guffawing again.

'Mate,' Draco grinned, 'I think it's pretty obvious that you'll be falling in love again, isn't it?'

Ron finally cracked a smile then, and lightly punched Draco in the arm.

'So,' Harry said. 'If she stole your money, how'd you get back?'

Ron turned red in the face.

'OH GOD!' Draco screamed, realizing what his friend had done. 'HE HITCHHIKED!'

And the thought of their friend standing on the road in nothing but his cartoon underwear, sticking his thumb out and getting hit on by gay truck drivers, was enough to have them rolling on the floor again.

* * *

A/N – I am soooo sorry for the horrendously late update. At one point, I'd given up on the story, so sorry about that, but now I'm back and going at it again with renewed vigour, thank you very much.

Anyway, leave a review! (Thanks to all those who reviewed the earlier chapters.) And I'll be sure to update once a week, for sure.


	4. Chapter 4

A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE

* * *

Chapter 4

Harry was brushing his teeth before the dirt flecked mirror lazily. It was a blissful day, as the other Healers would be filling in for him. He had one day of rest, which he intended to use for that purpose only. He rinsed his mouth, and splashed his weary face with water, wondering if his life would've been any different, if he and Ginny hadn't broken up.

It was a simple thing, actually. They'd wanted different things with their lives, and suddenly the war wasn't there anymore, and there was no adrenalin or fear coursing through his veins, unless he was trying to save a patient's life. Ginny had wanted some excitement, the firecracker that she was, and he simply hadn't been up for it. She was holidaying somewhere in Tokyo, last he'd heard from her, and he was genuinely happy for his first love.

The Weasleys were still family to him, and Molly was still a doting mother, despite his break-up with her daughter. She helped immensely with Teddy whenever Harry was in charge of him, and also ensured that he didn't forget to feed himself by sending him timely reminders every day.

It was then that his doorbell rang, and he opened the door to see Mary Macdonald standing before him in an oversized jumper over tights, a bright green scarf wrapped around her neck, her wavy dark hair all over the place, holding a big container of something that smelled great.

'Hey, Harry,' she said, brightly, a greeting he returned enthusiastically.

'Come on in,' he said, ushering her inside and beaming when she handed him the box.

'They're chocolate-chip cookies,' she said. 'Made them myself. Thought I'd give you some.'

'Well, that's incredibly sweet of you, Mary. Here, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?'

'Um, no that's quite alright.'

He took a seat on the high backed sofa-chair opposite her, and said, 'I think it should've been me bringing you a gift, seeing as how you're the one who's just moved in.' He chuckled. 'But then, I'd probably be getting you cookies from a store, seeing as how I'm useless with anything to do with making food, even with magic.'

She grinned. 'That's fine. Plus, you're a Healer, so I reckon you hardly have time to breathe, let alone waste away operating an oven.'

He nodded his head sheepishly, shooting her a smile.

No one spoke for a bit, but Mary stared at him, until he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

She laughed nervously. 'I'm sorry, it's just that…you just look so much like…' she trailed off, looking away.

'Yeah,' Harry replied, his voice catching. 'I know.'

'They were wonderful people, Harry,' she said, turning to look at him again, and he noticed that her eyes had pooled with bright, shiny tears, just shy of cascading down cheeks that had turned rosy from the cold. 'And they were great parents to you,' she continued, and he smiled warmly.

'You know, Lilly had always wanted a girl?' she said, and his eyes widened.

'Not that she was not thrilled to have you,' Mary rectified hastily. 'But she had always wanted a pretty little baby girl, with eyes like James' and hair like hers. Her brains, and her attitude, she would joke.'

Harry, dumbstruck, didn't know what to say. This was new. He didn't know things like these about his parents. What they'd liked to eat, what music they'd liked, what they'd given each other for birthdays and anniversaries…nothing. Remus and Sirius had been with him, and Merlin knows what he'd have done without their support, but in the middle of fighting a war against the darkest wizard of all time, there had hardly been any time for chit-chat.

And God, how he wanted to talk about his parents. He had an inkling that Hermione would refer to this as an unhealthy obsession, but Harry always thought that sometimes, Hermione used her brain much more than her heart. Sure, he was thirty, and didn't crave for parental guidance like he had when he'd been younger, but somewhere, he still felt that he'd been robbed of a huge chunk of what could've been his life, had his parents been around.

'Please,' he found himself whispering, tears gathering in his sharp green eyes as Mary wiped at hers. 'Tell me more,' he said, like a man who had been roaming about in the desert sands, desperate for a drink of water to survive, and had suddenly found an oasis brimming with his life.

* * *

Hermione looked up from the pile of paperwork on her desk when she heard a rap on her door. Her hair was in a mess as always, and her eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, but her face brightened in a second when she saw the man who was soon going to be her husband, leaning against the door to her cabin.

'Hey there, beautiful,' he said, walking forward to spin her chair around and kiss her soundly, in a way that always managed to take her breath away.

She chuckled, nestling her nose into his neck. 'I've been working for three hours straight, my hair's its usual frizzy self, my face is stained with ink, and my breath probably smells of the onion sandwich I had for lunch.' She looked up, and smirked. 'I hardly think you need to suck up to me anymore, now that I've said I'll marry you.'

He laughed and kissed her forehead. 'You could be reeking of piss, Granger, and you'd still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Now, what say we shut up this monstrosity you're working on, and head back home?'

She sighed. 'I can't, Theo. I need to hand these in to Kingsley by tomorrow morning.'

He huffed and dragged the chair kept opposite her desk to where she sat, and straddled it, resting his chin on his hands.

'I knew there'd be some setbacks to becoming right-hand of the bloody Minster,' he muttered sullenly, and she laughed and kissed him on his cheek, a huge burst of emotion welling up inside of her for this wonderful, kind man.

'I'm sorry, darling, but you know I've to work hard to keep up the job.'

'Oh, you and I both know, Hermione, that if you asked, he'd gladly let you work from home and come in once a week, just to say hello. You're kind of indispensible to the man, but you don't see so.'

'Be that as it may, taking advantage of the situation would be wrong, Theo, and you know that. Besides, you're the Slytherin, not me,' she added playfully, which elicited a little smile from him.

'How was work today?' she asked him, as he lifted her feet onto his lap and started massaging them, despite her insistence that this qualified as inappropriate behaviour in the workplace.

'Same old, same old,' Theo yawned. 'Yelled at Grisham for being incompetent, then yelled at Bareiles for being slow, and then yelled at Miffsy for being a clutz and falling into a ditch type of thing and hurting herself.'

Hermione frowned. Theo was the head of a business he'd started five years ago, and they were involved in restoration and installation of safety measures in buildings in wizarding London. It was shocking to see that half the buildings in magical London were falling apart, simply because the wizards or witches who'd made them had forgotten to re-strengthen the spells holding them up. They were slated to begin working on the Ministry of Magic building from next month, and that made her happy, because it meant that she'd be seeing more of him, and God knows she never got enough of Theodore Nott.

'Don't get too angry, now,' he said, when he noticed her frown. 'I apologized for being an arse at the end of the day, and gave them all bonuses.'

She chuckled. This was one of the reasons she'd fallen in love with him. Though he was still a spoilt rich boy, at heart, he was a good man, who was considerate, and actually cared about the needs and feelings of others.

She smacked his arm when his hands, that had been massaging her feet, started travelling up under her skirt, and he guffawed.

'You honestly can't blame me, Hermione. You look nothing short of delectable in this grey skirt – you know it's my favourite – and besides, it's been ages!'

'Stop whining, you big lug,' she smiled. 'We had sex just this morning!'

'Yes,' Theo said. 'Like I said, that was ages ago. Now, if you don't start clearing up to head home, I'm afraid I'm going to have to bend you over this table right now, and show you just how much I mean my threats.'

She shrieked when he started shuffling papers off her desk, and bounded up from her chair, grabbing her bag and keys. 'Okay, fine. I'm coming, I'm coming.'

'Good,' he said, and shot her a grin, when she slapped him lightly in the arm for pushing her around. He brought her left hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles tenderly, rubbing at it affectionately and admiring the ring that sat on her finger.

'I can't tell you how happy I am, love,' he said, and she smiled, capturing him in a hug, one he returned all too happily, turning his face around to kiss her. 'I can't wait to do this for the rest of my life. Now let's get you out of here and put some food in your stomach.'

In their happy little bubble, they didn't see the man who had been lingering outside Hermione's office, who'd come for the purpose of taking her out to dinner himself, but who now walked back towards the elevators, running a hand through his shocking blonde hair resignedly.

* * *

Ron had been snoring on his desk, when Malfoy strode into his office and whacked him on the head with a calculator.

'OW!' He exclaimed. 'What was that for, you bitch?'

'Stop sleeping at work, and come have dinner with me.'

Ron brightened visibly at the prospect of dinner, and wiped the drool off his chin.

'Sorry, mate. I promised mum I'd be at the Burrow today. She said she has something important to talk to me about.'

Malfoy huffed and walked out Ron's cabin in a pissy mood, and Ron shrugged. The way he saw it, he was the one who got to behave all crappy, considering he'd been robbed just two weeks ago.

He shook his head as he cleared up and headed into the elevator. He really needed to be more careful about whom he trusted. He still had some feelings for Hannah, and he was trying to make up for that by desperately searching for a new girl, because despite what people thought, Ron wasn't stupid. He knew how he functioned, and he knew that he was one of those people who were absolutely in their worst form when alone.

But, he thought, as he apparated to the Burrow, maybe it was time to lay off girls for a bit, as Draco and Harry suggested, and take some time to figure out what he really wanted.

Ron burped contentedly as he sat down on the sofa before the fireplace, happy because of the hearty and delicious meal he'd just consumed. His parents took the seat beside him, and his mother kept fussing with his hair, and only stopped when he shot her a look.

Percy's daughter, Molly, who was a little over four, was also visiting because her parents had gone into muggle London to watch a concert or something that he could imagine only boring Percy and boring Audrey doing. Little Molly squealed and jumped into her uncle's lap, who let out a painful "OOF" at the force, but nonetheless accommodated her and started running a hand over her hair affectionately.

'Ron,' his mother said, gingerly. 'We know what happened to you.'

Ron's eyes widened. He hadn't told his parents about his little tryst with Annie. He internally groaned. Now, he'd never hear the end of it.

'Yes,' Arthur added. 'We're very sorry to hear about you and Hannah, son.'

Ron relaxed. It was just about his break-up with Hannah. He could deal with that. They'd probably all mope around for an hour or so, and then he'd be back in his little flat, where his bed would call out to him temptingly, beckoning him for a night of undisturbed sleep.

'And,' Molly continued, 'I want to let you know that you mustn't be disheartened. Padma Patil's mother called me yesterday, and she said that she's been looking for a boy to get her lovely daughter married off to, and yes, even though we don't really believe in arranging marriages of our children, in your case, we think it'd be good if you just met with her again, you know.'

Ron did nothing but stare at his mother, before saying, 'Not a chance in hell that's happening.'

'But why?' his mother screeched, now quite angry. What happened, Ron thought, to not forcing your children? She'd probably emotionally blackmail him a thousand times to the moon until he agreed to meet with Patil.

'Why? Have you forgotten what happened at the Yule ball, mother? Padma hates me! And I don't need to marry anyone right now, God!'

'Listen, son,' Arthur said, calmly, but Molly cut in, wildly.

'You know what, Ron? I'm not asking you to marry her, for God's sake. I just want you to meet her. Who knows, you two might hit it off! That ball was ages ago, you know. And don't give me rubbish, young man, because I know that you aren't averse to meeting a girl and having a relationship, I'm your mother!'

She continued. 'I don't know what's going to happen to my family, Arthur. Charlie refuses to marry, Arthur! He refuses. His younger brother has a daughter, and he just laughs whenever I bring the issue up. Fred is still fooling around here and there, and don't even get me started on your daughter. Traipsing off all over the world, sending me postcards with a different boy in the picture every week!'

She turned to Ron. 'And you! You will not fail me, do you hear? I don't care if I have to drag you there myself, but you will meet with Padma and get to know her better. That's final. Now wait here, I'll get you some hot cocoa.'

And with that, Ron wondered, how a day that had started out so normally, had ended on such a horrific note as this, as he was suctioned into yet another one of his mother's master-plans. So much for his plans of laying off girls and "discovering himself."

* * *

A/N – Thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter 3! Your feedback is what keeps me going.

Leave a review. :)


	5. Chapter 5

A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE

* * *

Chapter 5

Hermione walked into her office to find a cup of coffee waiting for her, and she looked around in surprise to see who'd dropped it off. After the spell checker came back negative proving that there was no sign of dark magic or curse on the coffee, she took a sip. Her favourite flavour – cinnamon and chocolate.

She sipped at it greedily, and then whacked her head at her stupidity. 'Of course,' she thought. 'Theo sent it for me.'

She was just about to whip open her laptop (the Ministry had accepted muggle technology ages ago) to email him her thanks, when someone rapped on her door.

She glanced up to see that it was Malfoy.

'Hey, got a minute?'

'Sure,' she replied, pushing back her chair a little. 'Come on in.'

'These are the progress reports of the Aurors-in-Training,' he said, depositing a huge file on her desk. 'You'll find that they're meticulously compiled, but just run through them once again before sending them to the Minister.'

'Okay,' she said, perusing the file, leafing through the pages and then closing it, putting it aside. Draco had joined their team five years ago, when he'd approached Kingsley with the brilliant idea of transforming the Ministry with a so-called recruit and reporting team, just another word for HR. He'd noticed the stumbling standard of Ministry work, or perhaps just overheard his friends complaining about incompetent employees, and stated blatantly that the Ministry was doing nothing but wasting tax-payers' precious money by spending it on employees who had no restrictions or checks on them, whatsoever.

He made to leave, but turned around and said, 'By the way, did you like the coffee?'

Hermione glanced up in surprise. 'That was you?'

'Yeah,' he replied, running a hand through his parted hair and ruining the hair-style he'd probably put together very carefully in the morning. The strands sticking out rather suited him, Hermione noticed, as he shrugged.

'Was getting one myself and then saw a poster of the choco-cinna cup, so I got one for you as well.'

'Wow,' Hermione said. 'I'm impressed you remember.'

He stopped smiling. 'I remember everything.'

She froze. It had suddenly got too hard to breathe. She didn't know what he meant by that, but she really didn't want to find out.

'Well, thanks,' she just said, raising her cup to him. 'It's great. Now I really must get back to work.'

He half-scoffed at her for changing tactics and ending the conversation, and abruptly turned on his heel and strode out, leaving a very flustered girl behind.

* * *

Draco left Hermione's office in a huff. He had to stop by the water-cooler and regain composure. He'd gotten so close to telling her something he knew they would both regret the minute it came out of his mouth.

He gulped down cup after cup of water, and wiped at his forehead. He didn't know what to make of his conflicting feelings for this woman. She was the smartest, kindest, and most considerate person he knew. He couldn't even begin to imagine a world without her- it was as simple as that. She was a pillar of strength to Ron and Harry, and she knew it, and loved them all the more for it. But he didn't know what to make of her.

Sure, that one day, two whole years ago, they'd kissed each other, and that had opened his eyes to a possibility he'd never once considered before, or even if he had, he'd refused to acknowledge it. A possibility that there might be a day when he and Hermione might become a "we," but even the thought of that gave him a headache. He was attracted to her, yes, and he thought her to be an important part of his life. But he didn't believe in love, and he was going to stand by that belief.

Sure, when you were attracted to a person, it was really easy to confuse that magnetic pull towards them with love. But according to him, love didn't exist. It was just a little trick played on them all to ensure pro-creation and continuation of the species. He didn't believe in the constitution of marriage; he thought it a farce. His parents were a prime example of all things wrong with matrimony. He didn't judge others who got married - to each their own - but he didn't want to partake in the last legal form of slavery willingly.

And that was where the question arose. Would a woman choose a man with whom she had no future?

The answer is no, she wouldn't. She would go for the one who stuck a ring on her finger and promised her two children, with a life in a house surrounded by a white picket fence.

* * *

Ron groaned for what seemed like the millionth time as he headed into the restaurant where he was supposed to meet with Padma. He didn't even know why she'd agreed to see him in the first place. The hostess led him to the booth where she sat, hidden behind the menu.

'Ahem,' Ron cleared his throat as he slid in beside her. She jerked up, and immediately put down the menu, shooting him a smile.

'Hello, Ronald,' she said. 'Wow, you certainly look…different.'

He had been working out for the past eight years, but she didn't need to know that, Ron decided.

'Ah, well, it's been ten years, Padma, I'm bound to look different - everyone does. How have you been?'

'Great, great,' she replied, folding her hands on the table-top.

There was an awkward silence then, and she went back to reading the menu, and he took that time to study her.

She'd grown a bit, height-wise, and gone were the hints of baby fat that had once clung to her cheeks. She was beautiful; he couldn't deny it, all brown and warm, with dark wavy locks that flowed down her shoulders smoothly, big brown eyes that sparkled a little, and a rosy bud for a mouth, the lower half of which she took between her teeth every now and then.

Merlin, who was he kidding. She was gorgeous, and suddenly he felt a little less angry at his mother for forcing him into this.

Thankfully, the waiter came up then and took their orders, and he was pleased to notice that she actually did order for real food, not just salads and other health-meals that girls nowadays were so hell-bent on eating wherever they went. Plus one to Padma, he thought at that, and she turned to him after the waiter left.

'So, Ron, last I heard you'd been training to become an Auror. How did that work for you?'

'Not too bad, actually,' he replied modestly, taking a sip of his drink. 'I'm actually Vice-Head of the Auror Department now.'

'That's fantastic! You must've been overjoyed when you got that promotion.'

He laughed. 'You bet I was. But what about you? What've you been up to? I didn't even see you at the reunion the other day.'

She sighed. 'I really wanted to come, Ron, I hear it was great. But work didn't permit my attendance. I was in India for a campaign that I launched last year, and the dates clashed.'

'What is it that you do, exactly?'

'Oh, I'm a magical awareness facilitator. I've opened up a little program that ensures that muggle-borns aren't so completely clueless after they've got their school's letter. It mostly deals with sending delegates around to explain in detail what the wizarding world is all about. There's only so much one can gather from reading Hogwarts: A Histroy, right?'

'Wow,' Ron said, actually impressed. 'That's a great job. So you do it all over the world, then, it's a global thing?'

'Yes, it is like a global outreach program, actually,' she said. 'It gets really hectic, sometimes. I mean, I mostly handle legal work and all that, and I do have employees for field work, but you don't know just how many muggle-born kids have been popping up with magical abilities, Ron! Especially over the last decade. There's been a sharp hike. And what can I say, I saw a viable market, and jumped right in. It's a collaborative effort with Ministries all over the world, actually.'

They slipped right into easy conversation after that, and Ron was surprised to learn that Padma, when actually spoken to, and not ignored while pining after another girl at a ball, was great company. Funny and easygoing, she ate to her heart's content – qualities Ron admired the most in any girl.

When they were down to dessert, Ron said, 'I'm sorry to be asking you this, but I honestly can't suppress the curiosity any longer. Why the arranged marriage?'

Padma sighed, and pushed her hair off her face, and took another spoonful of the meringue, thinking as she chewed on it.

'Look, Ron,' she finally said. 'I don't believe in arranged marriage.'

'Good!' he exclaimed. 'Because neither do I.'

'But,' she continued, 'I kind of have to go through with it.'

'Why?'

'Because if I don't willingly meet up with guys and pick one, I'm going to have to marry an Indian family friend's son who I was kind of betrothed to when I was ten.'

'WHAT?' Ron asked, incredulously. 'Are they making you do this against your will, Padma? Because you could speak to someone about this. Do you have an attorney?'

'Ron, it's not that simple. They're my family – I'm not going to put them in jail, for Merlin's sake. Besides, no one is forcing me. Look, I'll just clear the whole mess for you. When I was ten, I was madly in love with this boy who had been my best friend practically since birth. We would do everything together. I used to keep saying that when I grew up, I'd marry him, and we'd live happily ever after. Then, my Hogwarts letter came, his sister's letter came, but his didn't. Involved in school, I forgot about him – I grew up. Apparently, our parents didn't. They still want us to marry each other, and truth be told, he isn't really opposed to the whole idea himself.

'But I am,' she continued, 'because now I realize that he was nothing more than a friend to me. I've kissed him once, Ron, and trust me, I felt nothing. Zero. I told my parents that I don't want to marry him and they didn't take it very well, obviously. And then my grandmother had an attack. She has very little time to live, Ron, and you know what she said to me, that day? She said that her last wish is to see me married and settled down. So now you tell me, Ron. What do I do? I can't marry Ranjit, we have no spark, no connection, and it's not just because he's a muggle. I convinced my parents to let me meet other guys, but so far, none have really been open to the idea of a quick marriage. You're my last chance, Ron,' she finally said, gazing up at him, tears pooling in her eyes.

'Fuck,' was all Ron said, and she looked away, wiping at her eyes furiously.

'Yeah,' she said, her voice hoarse. 'Fuck.'

'But what about Parvati? Doesn't your grandmother want to see her married off as well?'

She scoffed. 'Parvati attached herself to the first guy who gave her the time of the day, and rode off into the sunset with him. She has three kids now, Ron.'

'Wow,' he said, and she nodded.

'Look, Padma,' Ron said, gingerly. 'I like you, I really do. I had a great time today, but -'

'But you don't know if you want to spend the rest of your life with me,' she finished off with a bitter smile, and he grimaced, because that's exactly what he'd been about to say.

'I'm sorry,' he said, reaching out to pat her hand.

'Yeah, no, of course, Ron. It was silly of me to even ask you for such a thing.'

'Why does your grandmother want you to get married so bad anyway? I mean, you're successful, enterprising. You don't need a husband to complete you.'

She laughed grimly. 'My grandmother is a backwards, ninety year old Indian lady, Ron. I'm twenty-eight right now, and she's been badgering me to get married since I turned twenty. How do you beat that? And it's not like I can ask her to go to hell. She practically raised me since birth, because God knows my parents never had the time.'

He winced. 'Again, I'm really sorry, Padma. I wish I could do something to help.'

'You _could_ marry me,' she chuckled and then shook her head as if to brush off the comment.

'How long does your grandmother have?' Ron asked, as he and Padma were splitting the bill.

'Not very long,' she replied. 'I've to give my parents an answer within the week. And if I fail to find a suitable boy, I marry Ranjit this month itself.'

He sighed. 'I'm really very sorry.'

'Yeah, well, it's okay. Don't beat yourself up about it. It's my headache.'

As Ron left the restaurant, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman he'd left behind, who would probably have to marry a man she never even hoped to love.

* * *

Harry was going over the reports of his patients when his secretary buzzed him and said that someone was here to see him.

He was surprised to find that it was Pansy, and she looked much better than she had when he'd previously encountered her.

He would be lying if he said that he didn't about her and what they'd done every now and then, but it had been pretty clear from the get-go that there would be no more of it in the future.

'Hi, Harry,' she said, and collapsed into the seat opposite his desk, clutching the armrests. 'How have you been?'

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. 'Fine, thanks for asking. What brings you here?'

She said nothing, but pursed her lips and stared at the painting hung behind him. It was of a ship at sea, tossing over the fierce waves, tilting towards imminent death.

'Pansy?'

She sighed. 'Do you ever think about what happened that day, Harry?' she finally said.

'Why?'

'Just answer me.'

He crossed his arms. 'Yes, I do. What's the point of all this, Pansy?'

'I do, too, Harry,' she replied, looking down at her lap, ignoring his question.

'Look, Pansy, if this is about Draco again, I'm sorry but I'm awfully busy at the moment, and this'll have to wait.'

'This isn't about Draco,' she said softly, and cleared her throat, her eyes boring holes into his.

'Then what's it about?' Harry asked, and this time, his voice had adopted the same tone as hers.

'It's just that…I think about it all the time. It's driving me crazy, Harry. I tried so hard to forget about it, you know? I mean, you're Harry Potter. We're…poles apart, me and you.'

'Pansy,' Harry said, moving out of his chair and walking round till he was leaning on the desk, inches away from her. 'Is there a point to this?'

She craned her neck up, and her hands gingerly reached out to clutch his trousers at his knees. 'I mean to say that I want to feel that way again. With you.'

Harry took in a breath, and didn't let it out. She continued.

'I wasn't going to act on it until yesterday, you know? I was kissing this great guy from work, but instead of enjoying it, I was actually imagining you in place of him.' She chuckled. 'Got the shock of my life to find that now you didn't just invade my fantasies, but also my reality.'

She looked down again, her hair falling in curtains around her face. 'And I would understand if you throw me out right now. I mean, I'm not asking for a relationship, or anything. I'm not ready for that, yet. But I would totally understand if you abhor even considering saying yes to me.'

She looked up, then, and stared at him with her clear black eyes, an unreadable desire evident in her gaze.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He grasped her arms to make her stand before him, and kissed her with all his sincerity and conviction.

* * *

A/N – THANKS TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEWED! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST. HUGS AND KISSES.

LEAVE A REVIEW!


	6. Chapter 6

A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE

* * *

Chapter 6

Ron bounded up the steps of the building until he reached the third floor, upon which he swerved to the left, skidded to a halt outside 3B, and then pounded on the door rather incessantly.

'Merlin's beard, hold your horses! I'm coming,' came a muffled voice from inside, and the door swung open to reveal Padma in an orange bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her head.

'Ron?'

'I figured out a way to help you!' was all he said, a look of self satisfaction gracing his gleaming face.

Padma raised a perfect eyebrow and pursed her lips, shaking her head so that her towel started to come undone.

'I don't understand,' she asked, confused, as her hands reached up to gently unfurl her towel, shaking her hair out so that it hung lose around her face, water droplets hitting the ground.

Ron gulped.

'I – um – I mean I think I can help you with the marriage thing,' he said, trying his best to ignore the flush in her cheeks because of her hot shower, or the way her bathrobe had been tied in place quite hastily, revealing a teasing view of the hollow between her breasts.

He didn't expect her to throw herself into his arms and clutch his neck in a vice-like grip, thanking him over and over again.

He pulled back when he felt water splash onto his shirt, and he thought she was crying, but she claimed it was only her hair.

Later, when she'd sat him down on her couch and given him a glass of water, he insisted she sit down beside him, so he could tell her exactly what he had meant when he'd said he'd help her.

'Look, Padma,' he started out, rubbing his palms on his thighs self-consciously. 'I'm not going to be marrying you.'

At this she retracted in confusion, hurt marring her pretty features.

'I'm going to be fake-marrying you,' he grinned.

* * *

Hermione threw open the door to her office, and chucked her belongings to the side haphazardly. She screamed in frustration at the pile of letters already waiting for her at her desk, and then banged the door shut with a scowl when she caught her employees staring at her warily.

She groaned and slumped into her chair, clutching her hair in despair. It had been a very bad morning for her, indeed.

She'd had a positively mind-blowing time with Theo last night, with something involving wine and her belly-button, and they'd collapsed into a deep slumber, worn out in exhaustion.

She'd drifted off, but before she'd known, she'd begun dreaming.

Normally, Hermione didn't dream, unless it was a nightmare involving a cursed knife and manic, terrifying laughter. She'd had those quite often after the war, but potions and appointments had gradually weaned them into a once in a blue moon kind of thing.

This dream, however, was something completely different.

She was tied up, and at first, she shuddered, but then she recognized the touch placed upon her body, recognized the hand trailing up her side languorously. Cool air hit her body, causing her to erupt in goosebumps, and she realized that save for a pair of lacy knickers, she was complete divest of all clothing. Her arms were stretched above her, tied to her headboard with something that felt a lot that silk, and her eyes had been covered with a blindfold as smooth as satin.

She gasped in excitement when the hands reached her heaving chest, toying with her twin peaks, first softly, and then gently pulling them upwards, rolling them between his fingers, before letting go, all too soon.

She moaned in displeasure at the loss of contact, but very soon mewled in pleasure when those velvety hands reached her center, slid the offensive lace aside, and parted her lips to find her completely aroused.

A throaty chuckle reached her ears, and thus began a languid exploration of her body, the slow torture that increased the rhythmic thrumming of her being, brought her to the edge, but then retracted; forcing her away from the crescendo that she so desperately wanted to reach.

Very soon, she was a writhing mass of perfection, head thrown back towards the skies, exposing her neck to the ministrations of this devil that refused to give her what she wanted. Her wrists strained against the bounds that held them in place just so she could free them and touch herself, because this man was driving her absolutely mad. Her back arched off the bed as she felt his mouth where she needed him the most, but she shuddered back down when there, too, he drove her to the brink of completion, but gave up all too soon, releasing her nub with a _pop._ She howled in frustration, and he laughed some more, until she _finally_ felt the weight of another body on top of her, and felt his lips pry her all too willing ones open, molding them together. She could taste herself on his tongue, and the thought of that alone almost sent her off the edge, but like before, the bastard lifted himself off of her, ridding her of contact, and she bit her lip in frustration, rubbing her legs together to relieve some tension.

All she could hear was their breathing, her quick, shallow one, and his heavy, panting one. The man straddled her then, and she nearly burst with joy when she felt the tip of him against her centre. Finally, she had him where she wanted, and she thrust her hips up forcefully to drive him within her. This time, however, he did not object, and sheathed her in one swift motion, and the fullness of it all sent her teetering, leaving her mouth open in a pretty 'O,' her back arched off the sheets.

Quickly, then, as opposed to the earlier pace of his torturous exploration, her binds were off, and she had been pulled into his lap. She clutched his shoulders and held on to him for dear life as he pounded into her, finally giving her what she had wanted.

She still had her blindfold on, though, and he leaned his forehead against hers, and brought his lips to hers, breathing her name into her mouth.

 _Hermione._

He ripped off her blindfold, and she gasped to find that not brown, but grey eyes greeted her, clouded over with lust and desire, belonging to a face she had hoped she wouldn't see. Her eyes widened, and if even possible, her heart started pounding in her chest even faster, as she horrifically realised that the hair she was clutching was not curly brown, but silky blonde.

He fused their lips together, and thrust into her with a final gusto that sent her off the edge, forcing her to pry their lips apart and scream with reckless abandon as she climaxed.

She came while staring into his eyes.

Hermione had woken up with a start then, and to her horror, found her body drenched in sweat, extremely aroused. She hadn't been able to go back to sleep.

This morning she'd been cranky, partly because of the fantasy that had played in her head, and partly because of the lack of sleep. She'd gotten into a big fight with Theo over something as trivial as him always leaving his wet towel on their bed, and had stormed out of her flat, only to almost be run over by a car when she'd stepped out of the coffee shop, causing her to spill the hot beverage down her blouse. "Great," she'd thought, "now I have no coffee, and I'm bloody late for work."

She rubbed at her temple as she sat in her chair gracelessly, thinking over what had transpired. It had hardly been innocent, and God, she'd felt each touch, each tug, each kiss, down to her toes.

So now she was frustrated, highly aroused, because God knows why even replaying the bloody dream left her stupid knickers wet, and she had just dream-cheated on her would-be husband with a guy she'd already cheated with on said would-be husband before.

It was a fucking mess.

* * *

Harry clutched his stomach in pain as tears of laughter slid down his face.

'Shut the bloody hell up, Potter,' Draco spat out, a frown etched upon his face. 'It's not funny, you big oaf.'

'On the contrary, it's hilarious,' Harry chuckled, and then righted his glasses because technically, he was still on duty, tending his brat of a best-friend.

'Oh, just get on with it already. How bad is it?'

'Not that bad, mate. I mean, no lasting damage done, and you'll still be able to work that thing of yours.'

'Oh thank Merlin,' Draco sighed in relief. 'That stupid bint had toenails the size of talons, I swear. If only I'd been clothed.'

Harry guffawed some more, then stuffed a candy in his mouth when he caught Draco glaring at him.

Long story short, he'd bedded another one of those witches who seemed eager for the whole "Let's have sex without protection so I can accidentally get pregnant and then marry you for a lifetime of riches" shenanigan. Suffice it to say, she'd been plenty displeased when Draco had asked her to get the fuck out of his house the next morning, a treatment he meted out all too casually on the women he slept with, and she hadn't taken it well, kicking him in the balls. More correctly, his naked balls, causing a little tear in his scrotum that Draco claimed "hurt like a motherfucker."

So now he was all patched up, but he'd left Harry a story he'd be all too happy to share with Ron and Hermione, something Draco vowed to take his life for if he did.

As Draco was about to leave, Harry suddenly remembered something he had to do, and asked him to sit back down, a solemn look now gracing his features.

'Draco, you know when we'd been in Cap D'Agde?'

'Yeah?' he asked, confused.

'Well, remember that day you told Pansy that you wanted nothing to do with her, and she was really upset?'

Draco paled, and clutched his armrests. 'Is she coming after me again? Oh, fuck me, I have the worst luck ever. I don't –'

'I slept with her,' Harry interrupted, because he decided that there was only one way to do it, or as Hermione liked to call it, "only one way to pull off a band-aid."

'Fuck,' was all Draco said.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'And then back here, we took up again, Draco, two days ago.'

Draco raised his eyebrows then. 'And she isn't threatening you with anything? Have you checked your morning coffee for love potions, mate?'

Harry laughed. 'Don't be silly. It's consensual. And, well, she really isn't the same person she used to be at school, and we're not really in a relationship yet. It's just –'

'Sex,' Draco finished for him, lips curling up into a smile, causing Harry to shrug sheepishly.

'Well, that's good for you, mate,' he said, grinning. 'Merlin knows you need to let "little Harry" have his fun more often than you do.'

'So you're okay with this?'

'Of course,' Draco replied without batting an eyelid. 'Harry I didn't really have any feelings for Pansy, you know that. Now stop fretting and do whatever you want with her. And if you ever need to break things off, just come to me, Merlin knows I've done it enough times to write a blasted book on the subject,' he winked.

* * *

A/N – Thanks to those who reviewed! I would love your feedback on this chapter as well, even one line will do. It'll be some consolation that people are reading, and that they like it.

You'll come to know what Ron meant with the whole fake marriage thing in the next chapter, which will be up by next week.


	7. Chapter 7

A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE

* * *

CHAPTER 7

Theo and Hermione were currently experiencing a blissful lie-in, considering it was a Sunday, wrapped up in comfortable blankets, moving from their little cocoon only to gather food and change the channel on the magnificent flat screen that adorned the greater part of their north-wall.

They'd done up their flat with great care, and it truly reflected how alike they were, down to the no-nonsense but oh-so-sophisticated grey and white décor. They'd handpicked everything there was in the house, and Hermione had never known how interested she could be in these things. Four years later, they were left with a chic and modern apartment, but one that didn't look too cold to be lived in.

She was startled when Theo suddenly switched off the telly.

'Hey,' he said, and his tone caught her off-guard. 'Can I ask you something?'

She grew concerned, because her normally carefree boyfriend both sounded and looked like a far-cry from his normal jovial self. A dark shadow clouded his features, and she noticed a lingering storm in his eyes, like he had something very important to say, but didn't quite know how to broach the subject.

'What is it, sweetheart?' she asked, mirroring him by sitting up in bed, letting the sheets pool at her waist. 'You don't look that good.'

He sighed and ran a hand through his thick brown curls, leaving them sticking up in the air in a manner that was poles apart his current disposition.

'Do you really want to marry me?'

To say that she was taken aback would be the understatement of the century. Theo, as she knew him, was anything but doubtful, especially of himself. Even at his worst, there was a certain cocky confidence about him, one she assumed all Slytherins picked up as soon as they stepped into those bleary dungeons. They had to be smart enough to survive the snake pit, the devil's lair, and if they doubted themselves, they'd be nothing but misfits. An easy confidence that never bordered on arrogance, Theo was a shining example of a self-confident man in the truest sense.

'Why would you even say something like that?' Hermione asked in return, gripping his chin so that he was now facing her. 'I swear to Merlin Theo, this is so not like you. If you want me to tell you that I love you, just ask me to do it, and I will. This roundabout way is foreign, coming from you.'

Hurt and anger flashed through his eyes, and he bit back, 'No, I don't want you to tell me that you love me, I know that you do. I'm asking you a question, and I want a direct answer.'

'Yes,' she said, and it was the simplest thing she could imagine.

'Then marry me.'

'What-'

'No, I really mean it. Fine I popped the question, fine you said yes. But you do realise that it's been eight months now, don't you? And we're nowhere near even deciding when we want to actually do the thing. So, that's what I'm saying, Hermione. You normally take charge of everything. If you haven't done it till now, you obviously must not want to.'

She had nothing to say to that. He continued. 'Let's pick a date. Let's pick a date today itself. And not something two years down the line. Next month. I don't want to delay this any further. Others may not have a problem with this long engagement bull, but I sure do. I want you, Hermione, and I want you as my wife, as someone I can spend the rest of my life with. And I don't want to waste another second.'

Hermione bit her lip. Theo was right; she did take charge of everything. And she would be lying if she said that she hadn't even once thought about their marriage, because she had, and that too, countless times. But she'd also had something else playing in her mind, something she hadn't shared with anyone up until now.

'Theo, honey, I do want to marry you. It's just that... it can't be next month.'

'Why, though, Hermione? Give me one good reason.'

'Because,' she said, taking a deep breath, 'I want to run for Minister.'

* * *

'Okay, first of all, that's a shitty as fuck idea, and it's the shittiest fucking idea you've ever had,' Draco said, motioning for the bartender to send them another round of whatever strong alcohol combination it was that they'd been drinking for the past ten minutes. It was foul and rancid, but it was typical Draco, so Ron had complied, gulping down shots as Draco berated him for saying yes to Padma.

'Well, I know that this isn't exactly the best idea, but honestly, give me a better one if you can?'

'Um, for starters, you can ask her to deal with her problems on her own, and dance the merry fuck away from you?' Draco retorted spicily, thumping him on the shoulder. 'I mean, do you really think no one's going to ever find out about your sham marriage?'

'Her grandmother is about eighty or ninety years old, Draco. And she's a Muggle. So, no offense to anyone, but I don't really think it's going to last very long. I mean, we can just pretend to be engaged and who knows, maybe she'll pass away in the middle of it all. Quick, mess-free break-up, and voila! Ronald Weasley is single again.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'God, I wish Harry were here to knock some sense into you, because I for one always fail to. What, pray tell, will you do, if Padma's grandmom chances upon some weird book about Indian Tantric Rituals? And she miraculously heals? What'll you do then? Not get married? Pretend to be engaged for ten years? Your entire plan, as well as your brains, is filled with loopholes, Weasley. And I'm calling you out on your bullshit.'

'Well, we can pretend as if we've eloped, or whatever. I just know that for now, my decision is helping Padma a great deal, so if that causes me any inconvenience, like shopping for linens with her mother or whatever, then so be it. At least she won't have to get saddled off to some guy she doesn't even like anymore.'

Draco scoffed. He knew his friend's history with beautiful women all too well. 'And what'll you do to save yourself from falling in love with her?'

Ron had no reply to that.

* * *

Harry gasped for breath, as Pansy's hands pushed his head down, her nails leaving marks on his scalp. He would be lying if he said that sex with Pansy was anything less than amazing. She was fiery, saucy; and always open to trying new things in bed. He just felt energized around her, and gone was the heavy lethargy that came from the long hours spent examining patients in a medical environment.

His mouth trailed up her bare stomach, skimmed her breasts, and reached her throat, where he paused to begin a languid exploration of where exactly she would moan, and where exactly she would throw her head up to the sky in reckless abandon.

But the blasted doorbell had to ring.

'The blasted doorbell,' he huffed, as she pulled him down for passionate kisses. He bit her lower lip and she purred, _purred_ , actually purred for him, and he had half a mind to let whoever it was keep ringing.

But the intrusion was a bit much after a point, and he had to pull away, hastily put on his pants, and adjust himself, all while scampering to the door, half-naked, smelling of her delicious scent. The way he saw it, the faster he was done with it, the faster he could go back to her.

He grumbled and opened the door, and was greeted by Mary, hand paused mid-wave as she took in his appearance. Her rosy lips formed an acknowledging 'O' and he wished that he'd had the patience to put on a few more clothes.

'Ahem,' she cleared her throat awkwardly. 'It seems that I've interrupted something.'

Harry blushed a deep red.

'But, um, I just wanted to see if you could help me with assembling my shelf? Like there's a new one, and I have to assemble it, but I've been failing miserably so far.'

'Oh. Um, I really wish I could, but I'm actually caught up with a bit of a... thing, at the moment? I'll, uh, come around tomorrow, eh?'

And he all but shut the door on her face, wanting her to leave as fast as she could. Not only had his time with Pansy been ruined, but now his mother's friend had seen him in his underwear pants and she'd probably also correctly guessed what he'd been up to.

He re-entered his bedroom in record time, to find, with dismay, that Pansy sat on the bed, fully dressed, examining her fingernails.

He sat down beside her with a thud, and she looked up and smiled.

'So…' he asked. 'I guess there's no way we can go back to what we were doing before, could we?'

She laughed, then shook her head.

'So the moment's ruined?'

She giggled, 'Yes, Harry, the moment is definitely ruined.'

He sighed. She moved in closer.

'But I'm free for the rest of the day.'

His face lit up like a Christmas tree.

'Well, then, Ms. Parkinson, let me show you what Harry Potter does on a Sunday.'

* * *

A/N - Thanks to all those who read and reviewed the previous chapters. I know this update is really late, but i'd sort of lost inspo because of lack of feedback, and i considered giving up on the story again, before deciding that i would just go ahead and write another chapter for myself, no matter if no one was reading it.

Thank you for your patience.

~Shen


	8. Chapter 8

A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE

* * *

CHAPTER 8

Ron shoved his hands into the pockets of the suit he normally only ever wore to weddings or funerals. And he'd been to a whole lot of both. He immediately took them out again, and slicked back his hair for what seemed to be the millionth time ever, given the way Padma rolled her eyes when she saw what he was doing yet again.

'Ron, I swear to God, if you fidget one more time, I'll send such a crafty spell your way that you'll be fidgeting your whole life.'

He grinned sheepishly.

'I'm sorry - I'm just nervous. I'm meeting your parents for the first time, after all.'

She groaned. 'Yes, and for the fiftieth time, Ronald, they're just my parents, not the Taliban!'

'Wait, what's a Taliban?'

'Ugh, never mind. Are you done primping? Can I finally ring the blasted doorbell?'

'Hey, give a guy a break, would you?' he huffed. 'Do a nice thing for someone, and they don't ever appreciate it.'

She sighed, and turned to face him. 'Look, Ron, I really do appreciate all you're doing for me, I really do. And I've thanked you. A million times, for that matter. So now if you don't shut up about it, I will seriously scream. And you don't want me screaming.'

He gulped. 'Fine, go ahead.'

She smiled, turned to face the expensive mahogany once again, linked her fingers with Ron's, took a deep breath, and then rang the bell.

* * *

'Harry?' Hermione asked, knocking on his office door and peeping in. 'Could I have a word with you, if you're not too busy?'

'Oh, not at all, Hermione. I'm never busy for you,' he replied with a wink, striding over to pull open the door wider.

'Okay, someone's missed me,' he chuckled when she gave him a tight hug, one he returned willingly.

She breathed in his _Harry_ scent, and it reminded her of her childhood and innocence and at that moment she could have weeped.

'What's the matter?' he asked, when he felt something wet on his shoulder and realised that she was crying. 'Hey, hey, hey, Hermione, don't cry. What's wrong?'

He sat her on the comfortable sofa he and his patients equally loved, and placed a supportive arm around her, as she leaned into him and began to cry. He patted her hair awkwardly, he didn't really quite know what to do when girls cried, and Hermione rarely ever cried, so he decided that the best thing to do was to let her cry her heart out, which took a minute or so.

'Now,' he said, when her cries had reduced to teary hiccups a while later. 'Tell me what's wrong. Was it something at work? Theo? What is it?'

'It's both,' she shakily replied, blowing her nose into the handkerchief he'd miraculously been carrying around with him that day.

'Harry,' she reproachfully spoke again and sat up straight, pushing her hair out of her sweat-streaked and tear-stained face. 'I've been meaning to tell you something for a long time now.'

'That you've loved me all this while? Sweetie, I've always known,' he joked.

'IT'S NOT FUNNY,' she wailed, and punched him in the arm causing him to wince and quiet down.

'Sorry, but seriously, what is it? You know you can tell me anything, right? There's half a chance I won't judge you.'

She sent him a withering glare. He sent her an apologetic look.

'Well, I'm planning to run for Minister.'

There was silence for a moment, and then a large grin crept up Harry's face as he immediately took both of her hands in his. 'Why, Hermione, that's a fantastic idea! I mean, I've always known you'd be a great Minister of Magic, possibly even the greatest, and it's great that you've realised that too! But I don't see why that would cause you to have a mental breakdown in my office.'

It dawned on him when she sent him a "Don't you?" look and his mouth formed a knowing 'O.'

'So I take it that Theo doesn't approve?'

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile.

'Because he thinks you can't do it?'

She sent him a look that said "Please, I could _so_ do it. I could so do it in my sleep."

'He doesn't want you to work after marriage?' Harry asked incredulously.

She let out a frustrated scream and punched the pillow next to her. 'HE THINKS IT'LL TAKE UP TOO MUCH OF MY TIME, YOU FOOL! HE THINKS I WON'T BE ABLE TO GIVE OUR RELATIONSHIP ANY IMPORTANCE - THE CAMPAIGNING WILL TAKE A GOOD ONE YEAR AT LEAST – AND HE SAID THAT I'VE BEEN DELAYING THE MARRIAGE FOR SO LONG BECAUSE I DON'T REALLY WANT TO MARRY HIM!'

Harry flinched at the volume, and she slumped against him again, closing her eyes and clutching his shirt with her hands, if only to give them something to do.

'Do I really want to marry him, Harry?'

Harry didn't quite know what to say to that.

* * *

'Ron, dear, would you like some more curry?' Padma's mum, Patralekha asked.

'Oh, yes, thanks a bunch, Mrs. Patil. This is darm curry I've ever had in my entire life,' Ron replied, shoving what was on his plate into his mouth so he could make room for more.

Patralekha beamed. 'Oh, thank you, dear, that's so very kind of you to say. And call me Patralekha.'

'Actually, Mrs. Patil, I'm pretty sure I'm going to have trouble pronouncing that, so until I perfect it, I'm going to have to keep calling you Mrs. Patil.

'Oh! Well, then you can call me mum! I mean, you're almost a part of the family now!'

'Mum!' Padma exclaimed, as Ron coughed. 'How's your baking business going?'

'Why, it's going well, but we'll talk about that later. Oh, Padma, I'm so glad you've agreed to marry each other. Why I was just talking to Molly the other day, and she seemed absolutely crestfallen that you both had decided not to marry! But why the sudden change of heart?'

'Actually, Mrs. Patil, I wasn't too keen about the idea of an arranged marriage in the first place. But the next day, I bumped into Padma again in Flourish and Blotts, and we got talking, and I walked her home, and I realised that it might not be so bad after all. I really like your daughter, ma'am, and it really pleases me that I'll be getting to know her even better these next few months.'

Padma had to admit, she was surprised at how well both her mum and Ron were handling the situation. She'd expected it all to go to ruin the minute Ron opened his mouth, but to her surprise, he'd been nothing but charming, complimenting her mother nineteen-to-the-dozen, praising the house, the food…everything. She'd grown quite fond of him, really, and she didn't know what she would have done without him.

But the hard part was yet to come. They hadn't met her grandmother yet, and Padma knew how very difficult she could be. She just hoped Ron kept up his charming attitude before her as well, and that everything went smoothly.

After they were done with their meal, her mother gave her a pointed look, which generally meant, "We need to talk."

She sighed and went over to her, not unaware that Ron's eyes and ears were all on them.

'What, mom?'

'Sweetie, Ron's a nice boy, but,' her eyes darted over to where Ron was and she understood that he was listening in, so she abruptly changed languages. 'Tamo jano cho ke kevi rite tamra dadi che, na? Te tamra mate ek saras bharatiya chokro mange che. Jo te temne pasand nathi, chinta nathi karo, chevate samji saakso. Give it some time.'

Padma sighed and nodded her head.

Ron was just baffled.

'What the hell was that?' he whispered to her when she came over to him.

'Nothing,' she assured him. 'We're going to meet my grandmother now. Just be sweet, respectful, and DON'T forget to blink.'

'What? Don't forget to blink? Why is that?' Ron asked.

'You'll see,' is all she said.

* * *

A/N – Thanks for all the reviews! To those few who are actually reading, sorry for the late update! I promise to be better the next time!

~Shen


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